


Side Effects and Complications

by wallfish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2619056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallfish/pseuds/wallfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She saved his life and for that he was sometimes grateful.  So when she asked him for help brewing a potion, how could he refuse?</p>
<p>An after the war story that takes bits of the epilogue and plays.  Let's say it's AU and I can have some characters I adore still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters (These belong to JK Rowling). If I did, I would have a much nicer car.

The Battle of Hogwarts was a spectacular cacophony of magical violence and Severus Snape was sure he was going to die during it.  In fact, he had hoped very much to enter the great beyond and either pay for his sins in eternal damnation or maybe even garner some peace in his afterlife.  He was very tired of this world and its thousands of shades of grey.  He was tired of having to remember which role he was filling every morning.  He was tired of being mistrusted by everyone around him.  He was tired of keeping the secrets of a dead man with atrocious fashion senses and grand plans.  He was tired.

 

It was with the belief that he would die firmly in mind that he demanded to look into the boy’s eyes.  His Lily’s eyes.  The eyes that would hopefully greet him kindly in whatever afterlife prevailed. He closed his own eyes and prayed, ‘ _Perhaps she will forgive me._ ’ And blackness claimed him.

 

When he began to reclaim his consciousness, all he felt was aching pain.  The wound in his neck screamed and he would have joined in vocally if he could.  He opened his eyes, not to the much anticipated green orbs of his former ‘ _only_ ’ best friend, but to deep brown ones.

 

“Professor!  Professor, oh thank goodness,” a familiar voice babbled at him.  

  
‘ _Hell it is_ ,’ he thought. ‘ _I am to suffer this prattling while in agony for an eternity._ ’


	2. Errands

In a small laboratory, on a quiet street off of Diagon Alley, a dark figure bent over a cauldron that was bubbling at the precise temperature and shade of midnight blue that indicated a perfect brew.  There was one ingredient to add and then three solid nights of brewing would be complete.  It was at this moment that Severus Snape, former headmaster to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and universally agreed ornery old bastard was interrupted by a knock at the door.  Not willing to be interrupted, he continued his meticulous brewing.  

 

There was another knock at the door, louder this time.  And still Severus ignored it.  Why on earth would he compromise his potion when the idiot in the hall had failed to notice the clearly posted notice that he was NOT to be interrupted.

 

And so, Severus brewed on, ignoring the increasingly aggressive knocking and angry shouts that had started around angry knock four.  After a final stir, he lowered the flames and decanted a portion of the brew into five clear crystal vials.  He added these vials into the few empty slots remaining of a case specially designed to prevent them from breaking.  He then casually wandered over to the door and opened it.  There stood a man of a height with himself, blazing blue eyes of Ronald Weasley whose face was as vibrantly red as his hair.  

 

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus sneered.  “To what do I owe the… pleasure?”

 

“You know damn well why I’m here, Snape. I’m here to collect the potion.”

 

“Ah. I wondered how they utilized your questionable skills in the Auror department.  I see they find use of you as an errand boy.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Again, Weasley’s face turned an even darker shade of red and Severus wondered how much he could push the man before he resorted to physical violence.  ‘ _Or an aneurysm. I don’t believe there are any potions to cure that, at the moment.’_  

 

“Clearly, observation is not in, as they say, your wheelhouse.” Severus drawled, pointing at the sign.  ‘Critical Process in Progress.  DO NOT DISTURB’.  “One would think,” he continued, “that you didn’t want me to successfully complete the potion.”

 

Ron scowled, “Just give me the stuff so I can get out of here.”

 

“No.”

 

“No!

 

“Mr. Weasley, if you are incapable of following the simple directions as spelled out for you on a _sign_ , I would scarcely believe you capable of retaining and conveying the complicated dosing instructions of the blood adoption potions.”  Severus smirked at the scowling redhead.  “Now, shall we depart?  I seem to recall your earlier desire to be away from these premises.”

 

* * *

 

St. Mungo’s Hospital could be compared to most muggle hospitals, if one could ignore the patients that came in with arms transfigured into chicken wings, people belching fire and the occasional person who managed to forget that gravity was a physical law and came in by floating through the doors.  That aside, St. Mungo’s never avoided smelling vaguely antiseptic despite never using any conventional cleaners.

 

Severus barely spared a glance to those in the waiting area.  He and Ron made a quick beeline to the lifts in the hope of catching one empty.  As the doors were closing, a man managed to slip in, much to Severus’ dismay.  He was alarmingly cheerful for a man with, what appeared to be a haddock, fused to his left arm and chattered merrily away to Weasley.  

 

“Well, at least it isn’t my right arm.  Managed to get half a day’s work in at the office before the others started complaining about the smell.”

 

Severus wondered briefly if someone had cursed the man with a perpetual cheering charm.  

 

“And that’s when my wife suggested that I… Hey, hello there Professor Snape!  Fancy meeting you here.  My Gwen’s going to be awful miffed she missed a chance to say hello.  You were her favorite teacher.  I heard a rumor you died?”

 

Severus barely refrained from rolling his eyes, “Clearly, Mr. Smitely, those rumors are false.”

 

“You remember me!  Oh, Gwennie is going to be tickled! You remember when…”

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Smitely, but I believe this is our floor.” Severus quickly interrupted and swooped from the lift car, leaving Mr. Smitely and his ridiculous cheeriness behind.

 

Ron momentarily forgot to scowl at Severus.  “So, he seemed a friendly sort.  Favorite teacher, huh?  Bet you don’t hear that often.  Were you really that much nicer to Hufflepuffs?  He was a ‘Puff, wasn’t he?  He was too nice to have been in Slytherin, not angry enough at you to have been in Gryffindor and let’s not fool ourselves, no way that guy was in Ravenclaw.”

 

Severus raised an eyebrow, “you should stick to fetching messages, Mr. Weasley.”

 

Ron’s scowl returned.  “This way.”

 

“I do remember from last time.”

 

“That’s it!” Ron rounded on Severus and pointed a finger at his chest.  Severus merely crossed his arms and waited with a blank expression on his face. Ron seemed to be debating what vitriol he could spit out at the dark haired man.  He slumped a bit, “Oh forget it.”

 

Leaving Severus behind, Ron turned and stormed down the hall muttering, “She should’ve let you die.”

 

‘ _Some days, Mr. Weasley, I agree with you._ ’

 

 


End file.
